100 Themes Braltian Style
by Bralt
Summary: Yes, it tis be the 100 themes again! Only this time it is done in Braltian style! Yes, that is something to worry about...maybe...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice or any of its characters**

**Yes, Braltian style;) This is basically a bunch of random one-shots differing in length and update time I'll write when I want or can or something like that. It's not really on the top of my to do list, more of a side project so any other fics I am doing will almost always come first before this. Like I said, it will have differing lengths for each chapter or prompt.**

**Love:**

Love wasn't a trait one often thought to be in grim and mysterious men such as Halt O'Carrick. From his feats, he was considered merciless and great and most definitely heroic but not loving. To anybody that had seen Halt; he was quite an intimidating figure even though his stature might have been on the shorter side. Loving simply did not fit any Ranger's description really. Though they most certainly were capable of the simple yet complex emotion, it didn't fit in their outer appearance and therefore wasn't thought of when the word Ranger came about. Perhaps that was why it was a shock to a lot of people when the Ranger Halt proposed to Lady Pauline. It simply did not seem like somebody such as a Ranger would do that. The farm folk knew marriage to be something developed by love but they had never considered Rangers to have an ounce of the feeling. There was no other way to explain what had happened though. Everybody knew the Ranger never really did something without reason and there was no other reason for the act besides love. So as they witnessed the couple together, it was forced into their minds that even a Ranger, dark as they were, were capable of some sort of love.

**Questioning:**

Halt hated this part of being captured. Quite frankly he hated everything about being captured but if he had to pick out his least favorite, it would be this part. The part when his captors would question him and try to get things out of him like he was actually going to tell them something. It annoyed him to no end and usually hurt him as well.

"Tell us where Duncan's troops are heading," the man demanded. Halt simply glared at him from the chair he was tied down to.

Did this fool really think it was going to be that easy? The man glared right back and made a hand gesture to the man standing beside Halt. Taking the cue, the second man raised his beefy hand and slammed it into Halt's nose. A torrent of blood flowed down and Halt fought back the urge to yell. Instead he muttered a mess of curses directed at the two in the room with him. In response to his hateful words, he received another blow, this time to the back of his head. It sent his vision exploding with light and this time he restrained his words. What the hell did they think punishing him was going to do if they needed answers?

"Now, now, no need for that kind of language," the first man chastised. Halt didn't find it challenging to fake a look containing nothing but hate. In fact he found it almost natural for this man. "If you won't tell us that, then answer this: What were you doing in the middle of my camp?"

"What the hell do you think I was doing?" Halt spat, furious. Normally he might have kept his composure but this man was simply one that he couldn't do that for. The man smiled smugly and motioned again to the other man. Halt spit blood out of his mouth as another blow to the back of his head caused his head to jerk forward and make him bite the inside of his cheek.

"Care to answer now?" the smug man asked in a light tone. He wasn't this cocky when Halt had been free of chains, the Ranger recalled. Another reason questioning was his least favorite part of being captured. You were normally questioned by idiots with egos inflated by power. Halt stayed silent, closed his eyes and braced himself for another blow. None came and he opened his eyes to glance sideways as he heard two thuds. The meathead that had been beating him lay on the ground with a dark green shafted arrow sticking out of his neck. The interrogator looked much the same.

"Having fun are we?" Crowley asked as he came into Halt's vision. Halt gave a grim smile.

"I think I've had enough questions for now," he muttered.

**Dying:**

Not every hero could live. Not even the best of the best could survive forever, even if it was believed unthinkable for them to pass. Yet, here it was. A legend lying on the ground with his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood soaked his cloak and hands as he tried to staunch the flow of the red liquid from an arrow wound in his gut. It was bad to say the least and he knew what was happening to him as his vision swam and became dull. His thoughts seemed to be moving at snail speed and he was gulping for air. There was no way he was going to live and he knew that. Either the healers wouldn't reach him in time or they would and then nothing would be able to be done. Despite what happened, he knew he had no chance and was actually confused as to why he was trying to stop the injury from bleeding out.

Around him similar things were happening to the soldiers whom he had fought by. Out of all of them, however, only one would be missed as much as he would be.

He cried out in pain as a particularly harsh throb of pain surged through him. His was blinded with the torment for a moment before his panting breathing pattern returned, more ragged then before. It was torture. Nothing less than that could describe what he felt at the moment and even that term didn't do it justice as fiery pain shot through his being from not only the arrow wound. He'd always known that it would most likely happen like this. There was just no other way it could have happened and he was fairly positive he wouldn't have liked it to happen any other way. Even through the pain he knew he preferred dying for this cause than simply sitting in a bed and passing with loved ones by him. Though he did wish that it would just end already. The process seemed to be worse than what awaited him.

Another cry escaped his lips as somebody kicked him in the side. He glanced up and saw his true enemy and hate filled him. He was the one responsible for this and there was nobody else to blame. This enemy had personally delivered the arrow to bring this fate upon him. Smiling, the enemy simply stood over his dying counterpart. He found it satisfying to be able to watch this. For so long he'd simply wanted to see this one moment.

And there he, Halt, lie in his dying moments. Being watched over by the only person he truly found he could hate. The only person in the world still living who would find satisfaction in watching the legendary Ranger Halt die.

**I'm probably the one standing over Halt in that last one there based on what I do to him...please review**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice or any of its characters**

**It seems I've updated quite a bit for Past Mistake so I figured I'd dig this up again;)**

**Hold My Hand:**

Halt licked his lips nervously, something he very rarely if ever did though he was finding he did it more often now that he and Pauline were becoming something. Now the pair was sitting in a clearing on a blanket with the noon sun shining down on them. Halt had invited Pauline to a picnic, something she had been only too happy to accept. They had eaten and now she was talking about a letter she had received from Alyss as an update on her mission to a far off fief. Halt was paying attention, just not a lot as he kept glancing down at the diplomat's hand that rested so close to his. Occasionally he would make an attempt to slip his hand over hers but always ended up raising it to scratch his nose. It happened again and he scowled at himself internally.

_If you keep scratching your nose she's going to think you have a rash, _he chided himself and set his hand back down to its former position.

"She says she'll be back in a few days then she'll be going off to Seacliff to see Will as it'll be her vacation time," Pauline said. The mention of Will snapped Halt out of his internal scolding and he nodded.

"Won't be the first or last time," he muttered and glanced at her hand again. This time he fought back the urge to move his hand, his nose was beginning to feel a bit sore.

"They are rather cute together," Pauline said with a smile and Halt quickly returned his gaze to meet hers.

_Do it now you twit! _Halt snapped to himself.

"A bit too cute, they could lay off the cuddling when in company," Halt commented and Pauline laughed. A bit hurriedly, Halt tried, and failed, to place his hand atop hers. In his rush, he'd misjudged where her hand was and ended up planting his hand in the remnants of his lunch. Pauline didn't notice and he wiped the food off on his cloak, something he had yelled at Will for doing in his apprenticeship.

"I have a meeting with Arald soon," Pauline said a bit solemnly as she glanced at the sun's position. Halt, still berating himself inside, didn't hear her at first. When the words registered with him he nodded as if he'd been listening all along.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you for supper then," he said and Pauline smiled in confirmation before standing up and leaving.

Halt watched her form disappear into the forest surrounding them then glared at his hand as if it was its fault his plan hadn't worked.

"Can face a creature from hell but can't hold a damn hand," Halt growled to himself as he stood as well.

**Abandoned:**

Halt looked down at the small bundle in his arms. He was hidden in the shade of the fig tree in the courtyard at Redmont and it was nearing midnight. The guards posted all around were leaning against the wall they were stationed at and almost asleep. The torches were burning low and Halt knew it was now or never. This boy, Will as his name was, had to be given to the Ward and couldn't be tracked back to him, Halt. A smile flickered across Halt's features as Will reached out to him. Behind the smile was guilt and an awkward kind of pain though instead of glee. Was he really doing this to the boy? Will would grow up an orphan and not know the real story of his parents or who had been their ultimate demise. He would grow up with no family whatsoever besides the friends he made in the Ward.

Despite the fact that Halt knew Will would never actually be alone, he couldn't help thinking he really would be in his own way. It had taken Halt a while to track down Daniel and he knew for a fact nobody in Redmont besides himself could tell Will about his parents, whereas other Ward members could hear tales of their parents from friends. He was leaving this child alone without anybody and that was the cold reality. Halt knew it wasn't right and he didn't want to do it. But he could hardly keep Will with him; people would reject him and be wary of him if they knew a Ranger was involved in his raising. Halt shook the thoughts away, he needed to complete this task and move on with life.

It took little work to get to the Ward door without being detected as the guards were almost asleep and Halt set the bundle down, placing a note on Will's chest. The infant smiled up at the grizzled Ranger and Halt smiled back, the same feelings as before contained in the action. Did he really want to do this? Again, Halt shook his head, he wasn't abandoning the boy. He'd watch over him and Will would make friends. Halt had promised Daniel that Will would meet no harm and that was how it was going to be.

"I'll be here for you, you're not alone," Halt whispered, more to comfort himself than the child. He then knocked on the Ward door before fading into the shadows.

**Drowning:**

He was running out of air and fast. Around him the cold, surging water tried to tear him apart or at the very least, slam him into something that might do just that. His eyes stung with the salt water slamming into them and he was forced to close them once again for a short relief. The relentless waves crashed over him, driving him farther and farther away from land and any hope of a savior. As the next wave crashed down, he tried to push up from his position to hopefully get above the heaving water but the power holding him down was too great and he was only half conscious from his lack of air. By now he had opened his eyes again and was in pure panic. His body was begging for air but there was none to be found under this seething mass of water and there was little hope of getting above it. The urge to take a breath, even a small one, was as tempting as a drink on the hottest day in summer after a battle. But this couldn't be done. To take a breath would be his downfall, not that there was much chance in living otherwise.

His vision began to blur into darkness and not because of the salt. Just when he was about to fall unconscious, there was a tugging at the back of his shirt and he was hoisted above the rolling waves into a sturdy fishing boat. Will started spluttering and gasping for breath. He was too weak to stand and he was shivering all over. As he saw the angry face of a Skandian looking at him, Will deduced that it might not have been the smartest thing to try and swim away from Skorgijl. And with that conclusion came another one: it might have been better to drown than to be saved by this obviously unwilling and angry man.

**Please review**


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